Where in Myrken Town is Glenn Burnie?

[Glenn]

Glenn Burnie was nowhere to be found. If one was to look in the man's usual haunts, the Dagger, the Mudd, Treadwell's shop, there would have been no sign of him. Moreover, none of the bar staff, the librarians, or even the rolypoly tax collector would be able to help much with the search. They knew nothing of the matter. Other places to look? Well, if one stopped by the Remedium and asked in concern, he or she might learn that Glenn HAD been there at some point long past midnight, flanked by a Constable, and that he had been treated and would, in a few days, be fine. After the worst of the damage done to him by the Fiend had been treated, however, he had left with the Constable, giving no information on where he may be contacted.

No, Glenn, himself quite non-descript, was currently a resident of a non-descript house in a non-descript part of town. It had not pleased him to accept this offer of protective custody, but his injuries were still too severe. Oh, adrenaline and the aid of some hearty fellow (who, with admitted shame, Glenn could barely remember, now that morning had come), had pushed him to the Constables, albeit too late for them to do much direct good against the Fiend. And yes, the healing had fixed much of what was told to him to be "internal damages," as unpleasant as that had sounded. He was, however, unfit to do much of anything. His body still hurt rather severely, especially when he attempted to move his legs. A similar attack had killed a librarian. Glenn was lucky to be alive and he well knew it. This has not been one of Alastir Savoy's miracle cures.

When he could easily move again (something promised to him would be possible sooner than later), he would emerge into the Town once more. He would leave custody but he would NOT be returning to the Mudd. No, he had incurred the wrath of the Fiend once. Best not to do it again, at least not in so obvious a way. In fact, his natural instinct was to flee. Myrken was facing a two-front war, maybe three if Vraal counted, maybe four if one looked at the dischord in the streets.

The thought of it, the thought of doing what he ALWAYS did when facing such a situation, what has always kept him alive, tasted so sour here and now. Throughout flashes of agony and the all consuming image of the fiend, he could pictures those who stood up and fought for him, friends and strangers alike. He could picture Ariane doing all in her power to protect him, and could he really leave those people behind now? Well, yes. Yes, he could, but he wouldn't. It had to be something in the Myrken air that made madmen of them all. He had breathed the damn air too long. That must be it.

For now, he managed to sit up with a grunt. There were at least two letters to write before he went back to answering questions for the Detective Constables, trying to pinpoint exactly why the Fiend went after him. It felt like they were going around in circles, but he did want to help as much as possible. He had little regard for the Governor and, barring Treadwell, even less for the Council. Moreover, his natural inclination was to place his trust upon Malaroth and his knights. He KNEW Malaroth, was about to work with them. Still, he was nothing but impressed with the Constables so far. He wanted to help if he could. They had even offered to have a letter or two delivered so long as he did not give up his location. At the least, he could still write.

The first, to Ariane. It was of shakier hand than what she had received the day before, and contained far more crossouts. In the end, it took on more of a familiar tone. She had been in the midst of telling him something personal.

------------------------------------------------------------
Ariane,

I am alive, in hiding for the day, as per the suggestion of the Constables. If I hear that you have died protecting me, I will be very angry. If you had not protected me, I would now be very, very dead. Give my thanks to those who assisted, especially Sefall and his wolf. Regardless, your map will be done tonight. I will find some way to deliver it into your hands, personally, as soon as possible. Do not go to Snowstill without talking to me. I think it likely a trap, but perhaps one that must be sprung.

Your cartographer,
Glenn
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The letter had been hard to write, at least until he was able to push back instincts of formality and find an honest tone. The second letter would be just as hard. It took every instinct he had not to just have Alastir summoned there. His body ached, but it was safer for both of them if his location remained secret, until at least he knew that the Fiend was no longer considering him a priority.

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Savoy,

The Fiend cannot be reasoned with. He cannot be so easily understood. Stop trying or you shall die. There is something, some knowledge, he fears. He thought i could find it in the Mudd. I found his frost there yesterday. It might still remain. He watches the Mudd. Find a disguise and go there. See if you can locate the residue of his power and perhaps what books he had an interest in. You're more the expert than I. Find some way to destroy him. It can be done. He fears.

Be safe, you fool,
Glenn
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In both cases, no responses were expected, though if one could be written immediately, it would be returned by the courier. For his part, Glenn was more glad to have the protection than the hiding. He felt ... marked now by the Fiend, by his power. He would not be surprised if there was nowhere to hide, but at least he would be keeping his head down and there would be Constables to protect him. Both letters were sealed and taken away. Glenn made his way to the chair and prepared himself for another round of questions (including another round of coming up with a story that did NOT involve a teleporting wolf). Glenn ached, oh he ached.

[Carnath-Emory]

Much of the day must pass before Glenn Burnie's small, strange letter reaches her, and this is largely due to the very Constabulary that had offered him safe custody. In the aftermath of the Ashfiend's assault upon the Broken Dagger, they had arrived in some numbers, for Burnie and Sumakta'd had quite the tale for them - and while their appearance was too late to do much direct good, neither did it quite go to waste.

There'd been questions for her. There'd been questions for almost anyone who'd stand still to answer them, and particularly for the one or two who might consent to a stint in the Constabulary offices. Ariane had proven obliging enough, offering a description which did not differ from what they already possessed, detailing a capacity for violence of which the Constables were surely well aware; Calomel had fought this thing, after all.

But it was that matter of the Library which she meant to impress upon them most of all, so that almost any angle of questioning returned to that eventually. The Library, because the 'Fiend had sent Glenn writhing in pain on account of his business there, and because Burnie'd said something about frost on the floorboards there, and because it had been piercingly clear by the end of the whole ordeal that the Ashfiend wanted no-one near those books at all.

Might the good constables give some thought to that? And why yes, the back's much improved, despite the sword it had suffered the night before, and the hand will be well enough in time, and incidentally ...

Do be good enough, sers, to mention Calomel's way that the matter of Vraal has become ... interesting.

[Cinnabar]

It is not too late in the day when a deputation of Constables in grey uniform descend upon Myrkentown's Library, that repository of knowledge that has seen so much bloodshed and horror recently.

There is some bustle of activity within, some to-ing and fro-ing among the book-lined shelves before they emerge once more. Several of them burdened with bulging sacks of scrolls, papers and charts which are quickly carried away. The remaining few spend some time sealing up the library, a fresh-printed poster affixed to the door, bold letters declaring it closed until further notice, by order of the Myrkentown Constabulary.

Of the confiscated documents, nothing is mentioned.

[Glenn]

Glenn Burnie had spent much of the weekend at rest. It had been a harrowing week for the young man, harrowing and painful. He had spent much of the weekend deciding, once again, if fleeing Myrken was not the best option he had? The decision, naturally, was yes, yes it was. Still, he did not do it. He had, however come up with an arrangement which provided him with at least a modicum of safety.

Currently, Glenn sat at a small, cluttered desk, in the corner of the Constabulary Headquarters. He was plying his trade for the good of all (so long as "all" does not included Dread Fiends, mind you), creating a map at the bequest of the High Constable, and on RETAINER at that. This time he would be paid, and not just in promises from swordswomen (ones that he truly needed to follow-up upon; Glenn was sick of being completely defenseless). It gave him a sense of being involved, of doing something helpful, in this case, mapping out all of the appearances of the Fiend with a great deal of material, confiscated and otherwise, on the idea that, yes, it would lead towards the Priory of Snowstill. Moreover, he was about as well protected as he would be in Myrken, surrounded by a number of Constables.

For now, however, a break from work. It would have been nice to run off to the Dagger, but he was somewhat accountable for his productivity. Still, there were people to contact, and messages to be sent. So, it was time for another one of his letter-writing flurries.

------------------------------------------------------------
Councilor Treadwell,

My apologies for not sending a note to you earlier. I hope the last few days have found you well. I've been better, to be honest. Being assaulted by a fiend does not make for a good week. In light of that, I was a bit disturbed to hear that the Council has decided to negotiate with him. This is a dire mistake, one that I expect the two of us will be able to speak about at length soon.

Glenn
-------------------------------------------------------------

It was somewhat colder than he had meant it to be, but then Glenn was more than a little upset over what had been recounted to him about the Council meeting.

The next letter would be somewhat warmer.

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Alastir,

Having had some time to think about my last letter to you, I have come to change my opinion on why the Fiend attacked me. Despite Malaroth thinking otherwise, I truly believe that if the Fiend feared something that I knew, he would have found a more private place to try to get the information out of me. No, it had to be something he WANTED. We really do need to talk, not the least of which because of the lingering pain I've felt since the attack. I have accepted a commission for the Constables and will be working at their headquarters for the next few days. I've put in a word for them to offer you the same. You know more about this whole situation than anyone.

Stay safe, my friend,

Glenn
-------------------------------------------------------------

That was a little warmer than last time, a little less angry too. Hopefully they would offer Alastir to come on as a consultant here and hopefully he would accept it. The Fiend had first referred to him as Alastir's friend. Surely the healer was at risk as much as Glenn was. This would keep both of them safe. On top of that, he really did have the feeling that Alastir knew more than the Constabulary did. That really wasn't best for Myrken Wood.

The next letter, at least could be short and sweet.

---------------------------------------------------------------
Ariane,

I hope the map is as you wanted it. I do wish to begin our lessons as soon as possible. I am truly sick of being completely defenseless.

Your cartographer,
Glenn
----------------------------------------------------------------

That was certainly where he should have ended things, but there was a bit of bile and anger left in him. Best to vent it in a completely foolish direction, the gypsy's direction, given what he heard about the meeting.

----------------------------------------------------------------
Miss Quiller,

Word has come to me that you are going to be the lead person in the upcoming, absurd, negotiation with the Fiend. In this I wish you the worst possible luck. However, I wish you the best luck in managing to destroy him once negotiations do fail.

Glenn Burnie
-----------------------------------------------------------------

That last one he regretted sending the moment the boy had taken it away.

[Khalika]

Khalika recieved the letter while sitting in the office of the Waystation, it took a while for it to find her. for she is really never in the same place for long and goes about without a word..

But soon enough, he ran into a scruffy head red headed boy who knew exactly where to find her, and soon he was leading the letter carrier into the office to place the letter into the woman's hand..She looked up a lanky smile, towards the red headed boy, and a curious nod to his companion. Opening the letter, her brow rose, then fell...then there was chuckle. then a smirk...

Paper down, she scroundged around for a blank piece of parchment and a writing tool. The red headed boy had moved around the desk to see what she wrote...it went something like this

Map Maker,

Two things.

1. Bite me...

2. Stick to what you know...running and hidding...

Best regards

Khalika Quiller

She had surprisingly a polished writing style. Nothing overly ellascious, but neat and clear...The red haired boy snickered, as she folded the letter, and sealed it. Again nothing fancy with the seal, a simple handwritted Capital "Q". Given To the letter carrier he would he ushered out by the Red headed boy, least he peek behind the wrong corner...then back to the spot where they met, the red head boy tipped his head and spoke a few parting words..

"Your mister, must have done something...Either really dumb, or really amusing...Cuss she only puts pen to paper when she is in a right extreme mood....

Then he's off to do whatever it is he does for Khalika when he is not doing the other things he does....The Boy sure is busy.

[Glenn]

The night before was a blur. Defense mechanisms and mild brain damage would do that to a man. He remembered dropping Sefall's name to save his life, and that was about it. Nothing else. Obviously he was robbed sometime after that, likely by the crazed woman. That was understandable, considering. It was worth it for saving Savoy's life when he was about to dump two buckets of ale over her or whatever other mad idea he had. You took lumps for your friends. It's what you did. That was why he usually didn't have any friends.

A mild case of brain damage would explain a good deal. It would explain why he had not yet left Myrken Wood never to return. It would explain why he was continuing his lessons with Ariane when she seemed less than pleased to be teaching him. It would why he now wanted, very strongly, to learn offense along with defense, to be able to duel someone (likely the last person that Ariane would WANT him to duel), when he had originally asked her just for help in staying alive. It would even explain his ability to hide that fact from his teacher, when he showed no such capacity for guile up until now.

It would certainly explain his tendency to stick his neck out again and again and again, something he had never shown, something he had never had the luxury to show in the past. Up until now, he had stayed in Myrken out of fear. Glenn Burnie was cursed. Wherever he went next would be even worse than here. It was the way of things. So instead of running from Myrken, he had decided to take a stand.

It would take what he knew. No Miss Quiller, not running and hiding, though that was certainly part of it, but surviving. That;s all he had to do now. If he could survive three Myrken months, four, five, then maybe, just maybe, for the first time since that fateful night years before, Glenn could take a stand against fate. And if it killed him, so what? It would be a good death. How was this piddling excuse of a life worth living?

That was the mood he was in when the boy had found him. Glenn had nodded to him, to his comment, all the while leaving the message unopened, and asked him to thank Khalika for her valuable time and attention. The letter was placed under a number of other papers and rolls. Without giving it another thought, Glenn continued his work. The map for the Constables was almost completed. The Fiend's movements were recorded upon it and it all pointed exactly where he thought it would. One more day and he'd be done and moved on to the next place that made sense, to finally accept that commission with Malaroth's knights.

"Good luck then, Miss Quiller." Glenn muttered to himself as he looked down at the map, down at the place he had circled. "For all of Myrken's sake."

[Glenn]

Early this morning, Glenn finds himself outside the Constabulary. He had just presented his report on the Fiend (for a quite unexpected but very welcome fee, mind you), on what he had learned from Vraal about the Fiend. A copy of the letter was prepared for Alastir Savoy, in an unofficial consulting role (no fee for him). He was all but ready to call it a morning and head back to do what was quickly becoming his morning duties with the Knights, and then return for what he truly, deeply hoped would be rapier training in the early afternoon.

It was then that he spotted that selfsame boy who had delivered the letter from Khalika, darting off on one mission or another. It was easy enough to flag him down. "Hey, boy, a moment. Let me just jot down a missive to your... to HER." It was a longshot, but really, it wasn't like anyone else would listen to the idea. It was insane, but he had heard things, seen them, when he had full access to the records of the Constables, hadn't he?

It was written in a very quick hand.

----------------------------------------------------------------
Quiller,

This note is embarassing to write, but I still think it important. Otherwise I would not even consider sending it. Trust me on this. As it pertains to the Fiend, I think the answer might be outside of our grasp. The talk with Vraal has led me to believe that the only way to truly vanquish Teron is to install an emotion in him other than hatred, namely love. We could send you to do this, but somehow I imagine sending you anywhere in the name of love would end in the the death of hundreds of innocents. No, I have heard, in my studies of the Fiend, of something given to him, perhaps by a witch or some other suspicious woman. If there is any way to contact her, or any information you might have upon her, well, her mere presence alone in the area might be enough to somehow weaken Teron. If you could see that a message is sent, even blindly in the chance it may reach her, it would be appreciated.

My thanks,
Glenn Burnie
-----------------------------------------------------------------

At the look the boy shot him as he finished up the letter, Glenn just shook his head and smiled. "For the good of Myrken, right? Let's hope it doesn't get me killed."

[Khalika]

Had receieved his letter, just as she was walking out. She had an appointment. She read it on the way towards the orchard, it made a brow rise, and a chuckle tickle her throat...The Mapmaker had truly gone made, if he thinks he can sway Ashfiend emotions in anyway. But the letter it self could be used as a tool in her meeting. She entered the orchard, and met with Ashfiend as planed, they spoke, they argued. Then the world went black......


She woke up around dawn....Maybe four or five hours after her encounter with Asfiend. Still in the orchard, uncouncious she had been, small movement held pain in her form, but mostly in her head. A hand moved to touch her temple, Dry, clotting blood smeared about the one side of her face, she could feel the settlement crack and flake as her face moved. lashes heavy, she moves to wipe away the impedements, as she shifts...Hands, arms, legs...Save for the crack to the head she was unharmed. the throbing was near unbearable and the doubled blurred visions combined with a slight case of nausea....All familar signs of a sever concussion...She was lucky she didn't choke on her own blood or tongue in her uncouncious state...

Moments more and she was standing...eyes useless, ears ringing...she closed them off...use feel and instinct to move her towards the edges of the orchard.... It was still so early..The sun barely raising above the tavern int he distance. It was unlikely, there would be an body strolling by to help her...or more importantly...see her in such a state....So she made do, slow careful steps moving her towards town...Multiple pauses as dizziness takes over, momentary bouts of vomiting... All in all it was probablly the slowest treak to Mrykentownship in recent history. But she made it to the back steps of the Waystation. Where Dorian an apprentice smithy was just heading out...Then darkness again...

The sun was high above now, as she comes to again... though this time she can feel the soft feathery senation of a bed. the feeling that she was clean, and mended, a touch to her brow confirmed that it was indeed Daphne-Kyle's handy work. Her clothes were on a chair beside the bed, and on the side table. Was the letter, and blackened withered rose....

"That was your free shot Teron..."She murmured to herself....as she grabbed the letter...It was still the same, though a little more worse for wear.. A sudden thought that he might actually be serious...Damn you Mapmaker stick to maps...And that's what she was about to tell him. Pulling fromt he bed she moved to the writing desk, this was the room she keeps here, so she is familar with what is where. paper, writing tool and chair....

MapMaker...

Stick to Maps, you are no cupid....Nor will you live long if you think you can shift this Ashfiend mind....As for Vraal, that is were you need caution. He is like a slow acting posion. You do not know what he will do, till he kills you..
Ashfiend will not be swayed...This much I am sure..

Khalika Quiller

She didn't go into detail on how she knew what she knew, nor did she tell the mapmaker about her last meeting with him....But as it was the letter was folded, and sealed, the name GlennBurnie writing upon the top....Then to bed she was again....It took all her strength to keep her mind clear enough to right those simple thought. Soon the covers are over once more...Head to pillow...and for the first time in 24 hours....Khalika Quiller choose the dark slumber...

[Khalika]

It had been a good four day before the Gypsy was well enough to depart from her room, the dizziness and nausea subside. She dressed and moved down stair...A small bite and some discussion with Daphne-Kyle. She has always been her most honest sounding board.


Hours later she finds herself, sitting in the tavern alone, after a rather cryptic conversation with Vraal. It is clear he knows Ashfiend. Knows him in a private and painful way. but yet she has know proof, save his drips of half clues. But it is a start so upon her arrival back home, back to her room. To the desk where she keeps her writing supplies..
Again to the map maker..

MapMaker,

If you wish to be of use, then help me with this. You have access to all books, and Libraries...find what you can on the stories of the Wilted Rose... They deal with the beginnings of the Ashfiend, of his life before. It maybe be the clue we have all been looking for. Also, see if any of those stories, cross over with anything from Derry..Vraal has a odd connection to that area.
And fear not...I pay well.... but I expect confidentuality..

Vraal is the key, and the true threat...This I am sure..

Quiller

As usual the correspondance is folded sealed, addressed and sent on its way. She wounders as she leans back, wounders what the map maker would think of this letter.

[Glenn]

It was a good thing that Glenn had slept in Myrken Town the last night. Today was going to be a busy, potentially frustrating day. He wouldn't get back to the knights today, which would mean missing the work in the fields, but this was a special situation. There was just so much to do.

He quickly jotted a reply to the Gypsy, this one a bit more polite than before. Show him a little regard and he'll show you a little regard back. It was in a very steady, albeit slightly rushed, hand.

--------------------------------------------
Miss Quiller,

I will look into things. Also, having spoken with Vraal and having seen almost every bit of information gathered so far on Teron, it might make sense for us to actually speak on this. I have theories on the connection between the two and information you surely do not have. As for confidentiality and pay, I will only expect the latter if I hold true to the former. As for the former, it is not something I can easily promise until I look into the tale, which considering I am one of the few with access to certain books in the hands of the Constabulary, is a necessary evil you must accept, I'm afraid. Hopefully I'll have something to report, one way or another, by tomorrow.

My regards,

Glenn
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This time there were no convenient boys running around in service of Khalika to randomly appear before him, so he sent it by more conventional means. Almost as soon as it was sent, Glenn was off to his next task. This was a busy day just made far busier.

[Khalika]

Had receieved the Mapmakers latest Correspondance...Though before a reply could be formed, she came to see him face to face sitting in the Tavern, with him was the Ilarian elf Seth Bloodmoon. Do to this unexpected meeting, she was able to gather a small bit of theinformation she had seeked from the man and was able to advise him on some places to seek out more. As it Seemed Teron had done quite the job, with the books in the library, not that it surprised her.

After the meeting and further conversations with the Elf, she took the evening to let thoughts settle in her mind. Situation after situation, possible reason, upon possible reason..There was hundreds of ways these pieces could be layed out...But only one would fit them together securely, and she is missing some Key sides....

Sitting alone in her room above the Waystation, notes and maps, and theories all laid out before her. She thought best when she saw things on paper, especially with the many facets that were involved in this web.

Finally ideas gather to a single thought.. and the quill lifts...

"MapMaker,

After our latest meeting, and discussions about where to find other resources dealing Myrken History. I thought perhaps seeing as you have such connections with the Constabulary, and see Ariane frequently, you could look into the possiblity of the Governship having a personal cash of information dealing with this areas history. I have one more Avenue I have yet to exhaust. I will also be arranging to see Teron, and I intend to speak to him about the Wilted Rose. seeing as there is one upon his armor, and he left me one during out last encounter. I believe he will have a story to tell..
Again, it seems we are following the same path of information. Let us hope it leads to an open window, not a closed door...

Good Luck,

Khalika Quiller

It has been some time since she has corresponded this much, as he usual writing partner is in town with her. There is little to none who she would need to pose such a gather of words. The scratched notes she sends to her seeder contacts, do not need the polish of a letter...But as it is this is also folded and sealed...Pssed off to her young messenger as she heads out for the day. He will head off to one of the many places he knows the Mapmaker to spend his time..Hopefully he will find him sooner then later....

[Glenn]

What a frustrating day. He had next to no leads to follow up on, or at least very few. Ariane, the day before, had pointed him nowhere(the library in question being destroyed). Treadwell had been very little help. The Fiend had mutilated any book that might have been relevant in this matter. He wasn't sure where else to go. Maybe if Helstone HAD moved back, he had brought a library with him? Maybe he WOULD bang on the bakery's door.

For now, it was far more important to talk to Khalika.

The note was sharp and quick. It was also surprisingly formal.

---------------------
Khalika,

It is essential that you do not speak with the Fiend before you and I talk. I think you're missing a few pieces I have and I'm willing to work out what I think to be a very fair deal for both of us.

Your mapmaker,
Glenn
-------------------

He had written it quickly enough that it was almost without thought that he put the same valediction to Khalika that he generally used only in letters to Ariane.